


Let's Dance

by holdmeclosertinytaron



Category: British Actor RPF, Taron Egerton - Fandom, Welsh Actor RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:33:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24595327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holdmeclosertinytaron/pseuds/holdmeclosertinytaron
Kudos: 2





	Let's Dance

The kitchen was cool with the back door slightly ajar in hopes of stopping the condensation from the food you were cooking from killing the walls. The record player Taron bought for the kitchen sat on the shelves by the door, playing the sweet, sweet sound of David Bowie. Pink hues filled the room as the clouds turned pink with the promise of another warm day. No doubt another warm day where you would struggle to stay cool. The bright light from the neon light which hung on the wall mixed with the pink to create the most divine purple. 

Let’s Dance started to play and within a second, Taron was pushing himself away from the worktop with a wink. His shoulders started to bop to the music, rolling and lifting to his cheeks when he really started to feel the music. It didn’t take long for him to start clicking along, his legs finally joining the party to move him around the room. He’d never been the best dancer but he had fun and made you smile, which is all that mattered, really. 

“Let’s dance,” he sang along with David, smiling to himself when you turned yourself around and rested your hips against the cold marble behind you. 

There was something so freeing about watching your husband dance around the kitchen. Like you’d been transported back to 2016 when he’d dance in the tiny kitchen of the flat you shared in Hampstead. Unlike the flat, however, there was plenty of space for him to twirl and dance in your house. And he took full advantage. Whenever you were cooking dinner you would have the record played whirring in the background with whichever vinyl you pulled out that day. 

And just like watching Taron dance was freeing to you, watching you cook was freeing for Taron. He lived for watching you potter around the bright room, pouring different spices into a simmering pan and creating the most delectable foods one could ever think of. Even on the days where he looked in the cupboards and had no idea how on earth anyone could cook a meal with the array of random ingredients you had in, you could whip up the perfect meal easily. 

“Because my love for you,” Taron continued to sing, “would break my heart in two”. He walked over to you, placing his hands on your hips and pulling you into his tight body. “If you should fall into my arms, and tremble like a flower.” 

Your hands wrapped around his neck as you pulled him in for a soft kiss, capturing his bottom lip with both of yours. He hummed into the kiss, pulling you even closer by the bottom of your back until your hips were pressed together flush. 

“It would, y’know?” 

“Would what?” You responded against the curve of his lips when he pulled away the tiniest amount. 

Taron let one hand trail up the length of your arm until it rested in the curve of your warm neck, holding you close and in place so that he could look you completely in the eyes, “My heart. It’d break in two if you crumbled. Especially if we crumbled.” 

“We’re not gonna crumble, okay? When we got married we promised until death.” 

“If I remember rightly,” Taron spoke up with a cheeky smile, “we promised to be together as ghosts too. You’re never getting rid of me, pretty lady.” 

“Don’t wanna ever get rid of you,” you mumbled against him as he pressed his lips back to yours, pulling you into the middle of the kitchen. 

“Dance with me.” 

“Handsome, this song is barely a song for slow-” 

“Hush your pretty self,” he winked, wrapping your arms around his neck before letting his fall to your waist where he held you tightly. 

Your bare feet patted against the hardwood floor of your kitchen, the circle you were swaying around warm in comparison to the rest of the room. Taron was warm against your body as he swayed the two of you to Let’s Dance. There was something about dancing to a song not necessarily meant for slow dancing that left you feeling fuzzy. It could have something to do with the way it felt like the two of you were trapped in time while the rest of the world continued as if nothing was happening. 

“God, I wish I could marry you again, and again, and again,” Taron breathed against your lips. “Could marry you every day of my life.” 

Ever since the day the two of you met, in the middle of a busy Tesco, both trying to grab the last bag of tagliatelle, Taron knew exactly what to say. Everything he said had your knees weak and your heart beating rapidly. And he knew it. He used it to his advantage on many an occasion. Whether it be to get his own way or to get you to agree to one of his incredibly daft plans that you knew would end badly. 

“Wanna marry you again,” you responded finally, letting your eyes flutter closed when Taron rested his forehead against yours. “Wanna live our entire relationship over and over again.” 

It was as you swayed with Taron in your kitchen, with your bodies pressed together fully, that you realised you’d taken your relationship for granted. There were times where you’d gone about your day, kissed him goodnight and that was it. You wished you’d have spent a little longer each day appreciating the time you had with him. Appreciating him. 

One day you wouldn’t have one another, and one day you were going to wish that you’d told him you loved him one more time, wished that you’d kissed him a little harder, wished that you’d given in to his pleas before getting ready for the day. You would wish you could live your relationship again. 

“I feel like we’ve not had enough time.” 

“Y/N, gorgeous, we’re only in our 40s. We’ve got plenty of time together.” 

You sighed quietly, resting your head against his chest where you could feel the gentle patter of his heart beating against his ribs. “I know. But I wish we could go back to the start, relive all the crazy, unexpected turns again. I would do anything to go back even just for a day.” 

Tears threatened to spill as you danced with your husband to the music filling the room. It hit you that one day you wouldn’t have the option to wish you could relive those first years again, that you wouldn’t have the option to dance in the kitchen when you were supposed to be making sure the potatoes didn’t boil over. 

One day, one of you would be alone. Without the other. One of you wouldn’t be able to touch the other. You’d only have the memories. The images of your first date, your first kiss, the first time you said I love you, the first time you shared a night together. You would rely on photos as you got older, the face of your love disappearing into a void. 

You wouldn’t be able to cradle Taron’s face in the palms of your hands as your lips collided in a loving kiss, you wouldn’t be able to watch him dance in the kitchen as you made dinner, you wouldn’t be able to snuggle with him in bed after a long day and you wouldn’t be able to tell him how much you love him. At least not to his face. You’d have nothing left but the memories of your time together. 

The fights and the disagreements were nothing in the grand scheme of things. Living through those once more wouldn’t bother you. In fact, if it were possible to live your relationship over again, you wouldn’t let those happen. You’d admit to being wrong if it meant you got to see Taron’s dimpled grin or feel his lips one extra time. 

A hand rested against your cheek as you took a shaky breath. “Hey, what’s all this crying about? Thought we were dancing?” 

“Do you know how much I love you?” You whispered around a sob. “Like how much I really, really love you.” 

“Y/N? Are you alright?” 

Trust Taron to get worried when you got emotional. It had always been the same. At the slightest possibility that you might get teary-eyed, Taron would go into panic mode. You loved him for it but you did wish that he would chill sometimes. 

“Yeah. I just really love you.” 

“I love you too, silly goose.” He wipes your tears away and kissed each of your cheeks. “Let’s pretend we’re still 25 dancing in our stupidly tiny flat and go crazy. I wanna see your pretty smile.” 

And just like that you were dancing around your kitchen giggling and shaking your hips. Taron smiled at you and thanked his lucky stars that he got to be the one to make you smile. Like really smile. It didn’t matter how shitty you felt, or how stressed work made you, Taron was the one who got to make you smile at the end of the day. He got to be the one to kiss you and dote on you all night. 

As the song came to an end, you prepared yourself to stir your food. Until Taron’s hands gripped your waist and pulled your back into his front. He leaned forward enough to plant a sloppy kiss to your cheek, smiling when you scrunched your face up with your own smile. 

“Who said we were done?” He asked as he wrapped his arms around your middle to hold you to him. “Got a couple more songs in me still.” 

“But the food-“ 

“Can wait, bubs. Dancing with your husband is more important right now.” 

Your eyelids fluttered closed as he swayed you gently on the spot. His hands were warm against your tummy, the lack of rings something you weren’t quite used to. His rising and falling chest was melodic against your back, grounding you fully. You were no longer thinking about the potatoes that were bound to boil over any second, you weren’t thinking about the pan of stock you were cooking up for gravy and you weren’t thinking about the toad in the hole that would potentially burn. 

All that mattered was allowing your husband to dance you around the kitchen with his chin resting on your shoulder. 

“I, I will be king,” Taron sang softly against the warm skin of your cheek, closing his eyes with a gentle smile. “And you, you will be queen.” 

You let out a breath of pure happiness, your heart rate increasing at the mere sound of Taron singing one of your favourite songs to you quietly. Long gone was your attention on the record player in the corner. All you could hear was the faint pounding of your heart and the gentle sound of Taron’s deep, velvety voice as he sang. 

“Though nothing will drive them away,” he continued as he spun you around so that you were facing him. “We can beat them just for one day. We can be heroes, just for one day.” 

The kitchen floor became your dancefloor, the marble tiles transforming into black and white checked tiles that were sticky from the alcohol that had been dropped onto them. You could barely hear anything over the sound of Taron’s voice and you felt like you were high on life. Your hands gripped the sides of Taron’s neck tight enough that you could guide him down to your lips without leaving marks. 

His lips were soft and warm against your own, the familiar taste of his chewing gum filling your senses. You were immersed in him. His touch, his smell, his taste. He was all you could hear, all you could see. 

Being together for so long meant that he knew exactly how to deepen the kiss without having to do very much. A hand caressing your cheek was all it took for your lips to part enough for his tongue to pass against yours, igniting something deep within you that you’d never managed to describe. 

A soft bite to your lip drew a moan from your throat that Taron smirked at. “Get you going so easy, don’t I?” 

“Shut up and kiss me, Styles.” 

“Anything for you, gorgeous.” 

As his lips captured yours in yet another kiss, his right hand moved from your side down to your thigh. He pulled your leg up his side before trailing his hand up to your side, pulling your top up a little as it went. He held you in place as he continued to kiss you, letting his tongue press against yours every now and then. His teeth would grip your bottom lip gently and tug at it as he pulled away from the kiss, smirking to himself then he let it go, only to press forward once more to pull it back into his mouth. 

“And this, this is why I don’t bring friends home,” your son groaned from the doorway, gesturing at the two of you in disgust. “Why do you always have to be making out? Every time I come home you’re all over each other. There’s something called a bedroom,” he emphasised, rolling his eyes and dropping his backpack on the floor by his feet. 

“Son, it could be a lot worse,” Taron chuckled as he guided your leg back to the floor gently. “Could have her scream-“ 

“And that’s where you shut up, Taron,” you butted in, stopping your husband from finishing his sentence. “Tea’ll be ready in half an hour, sweetheart.” You smiled at your son before shoving Taron away from you with a chuckle. 

“I hear enough of that when I’m in bed, thank you, dad.” 

You threw your head forward to hide in Taron’s chest, not really needing to know that your son heard you in bed. “Taron hellllllp!” 

“Go do your homework, dude.” 

“Oh yeah, because that’s helping the situation really well.” You sighed, turning to the oven to finally tend to the vegetables that were cooking. 

Taron slapped your bum as you turned around, earning a squeal from you and a groan from your son who sat in the dining room. 

“I’m not the one who’s loud in bed telling me how good I feel and how much you-” 

“You’re a menace.” 

“And you just kissed me like we were on a dance floor.”


End file.
